


for the tainted and the gone.

by Anonymous



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Crushes, Dream's POV, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Crush, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, High School, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mention of alcohol, Mystery, Oblivious, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romance, Texting, The Author Regrets Everything, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Clay meets a mysterious British transfer student, and from there only falls in love with someone who always seems to be running.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 153
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would first like to specify that this is canon divergent. Dream/Clay is a youtuber/aspiring youtuber, but almost everything else is slightly off. I hope it still has a bit of authenticity.  
> I don't know if I intend to continue but I hope you like this.

Clay has always believed in identity, although he’s always had difficulties in reflecting on who he is. From Clayton he became Clay, and from Clay he became Dream. He never really ceased becoming Clay. Clay was his shadow, the entity that would never leave him alone, who would follow him around always. Dream was his persona, but also his real self, the unfiltered Clay under the protection of anonymity.

Clay also knew that, like others, he would never truly stop discovering himself. Clay admired authenticity, creativity and originality, he would admire genuity and openness. Clay loved his friends more than anything else and Clay liked to observe people around him. It was only natural that Clay would later learn how to love George.

George. George was, at first, the transfer student for one month. The British boy who transitioned from the dreary weather and the fresh grass in London to the palm trees and suffocating sun of Florida in nothing else but a blue sweatshirt and a pair of weird goggles. George was the boy Clay stared at in his English class with far more interest than what was normal. George was the boy Clay saw jumping the fence and disappearing for days on end. George was the boy who always knew the answer to any question asked during class despite never paying attention. George was also the boy Clay saw feeding stray cats during lunch break. George was the boy Clay saw jumping to get the book from the highest shelf in the library because he was too short, but he was also the boy Clay saw that standing up in front of a group of five well-built men and then disappearing right in front of their noses. George was the boy Clay finally managed to talk to when he was supposed to leave next week.

The first time Clay talked to George was while they were both skipping and the library became their chosen destination for the hour. Clay knew he was smart. He was never hard-working when it came to subjects he didn’t particularly like, but incredibly competitive when it came to his passion. Therefore, he always found better ways to spend his time other than daydreaming through the mindless chatter of his teachers. He has just started his Youtube channel and was still studying Reddit posts dedicated to describing and picking apart the algorithm. He thought the library was the safest choice to go. He sat down at an isolated table, opened his laptop, and thus began his Reddit surfing. He was deep into having a one-sided debate about thumbnails when a tuft of dark brown hair leaned over his shoulder, and a British accent resonated in his ears “That post is bullshit. Human faces in thumbnails are a lot more pushed.” Clay almost squeaked. ‘ _That was creepy_ ’ was his first thought.

The head leaned back and Clay turned his head so fast he almost fell off his chair. To his surprise, George was staring at him, weird goggles on his face, with a baby blue hoodie that seemed about 2 sizes too big, trying to balance three books on his laptop. “Sorry, that was creepy, I’m sorry.” ‘ _His voice is so weird_ ’ was his second thought. George’s voice was both expressive and monotone, he couldn’t quite place it. He had a boyish quality to it, that made him think he could cover tones and tones, but he spoke with a flatness that seemed almost practiced. Clay could only gawk at him, trying to take in as much of his features as he could, which, with those stupid goggles and his hoodie almost swallowing him up, admittedly, weren’t much to see. The other seemed uncomfortable with the fixed stare he was receiving and winced, continuing to explain “I was passing by and I saw that stupid thumbnail photo, I wasn’t trying to be invasive or anything.” Clay was still in shock at hearing George speak outside class. For a moment, his brain couldn’t register George’s words. However, when he finally came to his senses, George was already leaving.

Without thinking, Clay stood up and pulled George’s sleeve wincing as he towered over the other. His looks and height have always been admired and a source of popularity almost, and he never hated them more than he did now, realizing he seemed like he wanted to beat George up. He could almost feel how the other tensed and his spine became rigid as he hurriedly let go of his sleeve. Clay quickly racked his brain for something to say. “Actually, I need a bit of help with this, and you seem like you know what you’re doing so, could you like, give me some words of advice?” and flashed a smile, hoping he didn’t look nearly as stupid as he felt.

George looked at him with those stupid goggles for 2 full seconds before nodding and saying a simple “Yes.” and taking a seat in front of Clay.

After three hours, Clay’s spare notebook had brand new notes written, a plethora of suggestions from George and corrected Reddit notes and a newfound respect for the other. Clay quickly found out that George had lots of opinions without actually caring that much and that after a quick review of the books chosen, George decided that Gargantua and Pantagruel by François Rabelais was a piece of literature for pretentious assholes who couldn’t recognize good writing for the life of them and that the Renaissance era literature was grossly overrated. Clay also found out that George didn’t like to be contradicted, had a passion for coding (and Clay immediately bombarded him with questions, excited at the prospect of having that in common with George) and that he was actually quite proud to be British, going on about his hometown and claiming that no, drinking tea was not part of their culture. Clay decided he liked the sound of George’s voice too much to contradict him.

Clay also decided when he had to get home and stared at the moving scenery outside, when those hours passed in what felt like a matter of minutes and he texted Sapnap about his day, that if he had a soulmate, it would be George. He hadn’t clicked with anyone but Sapnap so well and he had since forgotten about the thrill of getting to know someone, of craving for more precious moments with a person and drinking in every piece of information like a stranded man on an island. He thought George was his person. And the next time they talked, they were on a rooftop, George laughing about Americans’ low alcohol tolerance and claiming Europeans were born with alcohol in their hand. Clay was too lost in his presence to complain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, distance means beginning. Sometimes, distance means promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To whoever is reading this, sorry, it took me a while. And it's kind of short too. I still don't know if I actually want to continue this properly. I hope you like it either way.

His next week was a dream. Day after day of almost psychedelic-like delirium, as every single day was spent with either George or thinking about George. Clay was a Leo, he liked people, he liked certain attention from people, but only the ones that truly mattered, and during that week, there was no one that mattered more than George. 

He would later find out that George was a terribly private person, unlike almost everyone he knew. Maybe it was a European thing, but George seldom talked about himself. Clay quickly learned George adored animals, and that he has a cat back in England named Luca. He found it endearing how the other stopped at every single dog he saw in the park to pet them and shower them with attention. More often than not, while they were walking underneath the unforgiving sun of Florida, George would stop at the sight of the animal and excitedly exclaim “Look! A dog!” with an unrestrained smile on his face. It was then that Clay realized no one who loved animals so much could be anything else than an angel.

He was wrong. George was not an angel, because no angel could feel as much as George did. George was terrifyingly human and inhuman, he looked like he was always living, like he had no inhibitions, like there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do, but Clay would later realize that George felt trapped. Clay would find out that George lived like he was running out of time, and Clay would see how much he can love George.

After a week, Clay woke up in the dead of the night, pulled a sweater on himself, and solemnly headed to the airport. Today was the day when George would leave. When the week of blissful nights and sunsets spent with him would end. Clay didn’t let himself cry, but he let himself mourn. He hoped they wouldn’t lose contact, but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pretend everything is the same without George’s smile and the sound of his voice. His family comforted him, told him they could always video call. It was then that Clay found out he never got George’s phone number.

“I’m going to miss you.” Clay proclaimed honestly, studying George’s face under the harsh, industrial light of the airport. 

George only smiled beatifically, head tilted and curious gaze fixated on Clay like there was nothing else around them. “Why?” he asked. Clay predicted that question. 

“Just because. You are going to miss me as well sooner or later.” He smiled, full of conviction that he didn’t feel. He tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat, anxiety frantically clawing in his chest.

“You say that but you don’t believe it.” George snorted, a fond quirk of his lips plastered on his face. He leaned forward and threw his arms around Clay’s neck with no hesitation. Clay blinked in shock but quickly wrapped his own around George’s waist, sighing and trying to drown in blissful ignorance. It was the last time he got to hold the other like this. Before withdrawing, he felt George slip something in his pocket. “Open it when you get home please.”

Clay could only nod as he felt tears starting to form in his eyes, the familiar robotic voice blasting through the speakers, announcing George’s flight, and with it, a feeling of longing Clay wasn’t accustomed to. George waved one last time and then disappeared in the sea of faceless people, drowning the beautiful presence Clay came to know the last few weeks.

Half an hour later, when Clay got home, he laid on his bed, eyes fixed on his ceiling, trying to paint George’s image in his mind. He reached for his hoodie, only to feel something hard in one of the pockets. He frowned, only to pull out a Matryoshka doll. He snorted, remembering George telling him to open it when he got home. Pulling one after another, each smaller than the previous one, he finally got to a doll barely bigger than his fingernail, with a piece of paper rolled in. With clumsy fingers, he straightened it and read it.

‘ _ You forgot to ask for my number, idiot. :]’ _

He snorted and flipped it, eyes scanning a phone number hurriedly written on the piece of paper. He opened his phone and went to his contacts, inserting the new number and typing ‘ Georgie’. Without thinking too much about it, he sent George a meme he found on Reddit earlier. 

When he woke up, a notification from George appeared on his screen. He opened it, immediately. 

‘ _ Took you a while, nimrod.’  _ He chuckled, typing in his reply. ‘ _ Did you time me, Georgie?’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be cool :] but no pressure.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know why I wrote this, I just have a lot of thoughts. Comments help, feel free to comment.


End file.
